poems. again.

Music Box

I turn the key
Round and round
Till my fingers
Hurt just so I can hear
The precious song that plays.
It reminds me so much of you
And how much I miss you.
It speaks for us
Our silent goodbye's.
It cries for us
Our unshed tears.
It mends for us
Our broken hearts,
Reaching and stretching,
But narrowly missing each other.
It plays for us
Our music of refuge.
First for you, as I suspect,
You went to it for comfort
And now its my turn.
The delicate little box
That holds our unsaid bond.
The music box is the only thing
That helps me truly remember
Who I am
And where you are.
If not for that little box,
I would not know what to do,
But I'd rather have that
Than not have you.

~~Angel

Not finished yet...

I once was loved
And my heart had soared!
I once had loved,
But now I don't know how.

Then my heart had broken;
I lost the only one
Who had ever cared for me.
Now I have no one.

My heart became mended,
Patched but not happy.
I hurt all over, inside and out.
But I knew it would never work.

I lost my love and my heart shattered!


That's all I got.

~~Angel [happy, I guess...I love music! (random)]